The Fringe Files
by Joshua The Evil Guy
Summary: Teraverse Sidestory. In response to the growing Metahuman issue, the Federal Bureau of Investigation has created their own Metahuman Division; the Fringe Division, investigating the very fringes of the Teraverse.
1. Entry 0001 - Retasking

Title: A Teraverse Sidestory: _The Fringe Files_

Author: Joshua

Disclaimer: First off, for the record, **YES** , _DianeCastle_ has given her permission to post this story as a part of her ongoing 'Teraverse' fanfiction series. _Bones_ is owned by 20th Century Fox and was created by Hart Hanson. _Fringe_ is owned by Warner Brothers and was created by J.J. Abrams, Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci. _Castle_ is owned by ABC/Disney and was created by Andrew Marlowe. _Numb3rs_ is owned by CBS and was created by Nicolas Falacci and Cheryl Heuton. _Limitless_ is owned by CBS and was developed for TV by Craig Sweeney. _Unforgettable_ is owned by CBS/A&E and was developed for TV by Ed Redlich. _NCIS_ , and all franchises, is owned by CBS and was created by Donald Bellisario. _Blue Bloods_ is owned by CBS and was created by Robin Green and Mitchell Burgess. _Batman_ is owned by DC Comics and was created by Bob Kane. _Quantico_ is owned by ABC/Disney and was created by Joshua Safran. _Rizzoli & Isles_ is owned by Warner Brothers and was created by Tess Gerritson and developed for TV by Janet Tamaro. _The Outer Limits_ (1995 series) is primarily distributed, and owned by MGM Studios, with many different authors/creators involved. _Now You See Me_ is a 2013 film directed by Louis Leterrier and written by Ed Solomon, Boaz Yakin and Edward Ricourt. _Leverage_ is owned by TNT and was created by John Rogers and Chris Downey. _Scorpion_ is a TV adaptation of real life Walter O'Brien's company, distributed by CBS and developed for TV by Nick Santora. Katherine "Kitt" Katt/Martini/Reader was created by Gini Koch as part of her ongoing _Touched By An Alien_ series. Kitty Norville was created by Carrie Vaughn as part of her ongoing _Kitty Norville_ series. Angel, Darla, Spike and Drusilla were created as part of BtVS and owned by Mutant/Enemy Productions and Joss Whedon. (Any additional crossovers/disclaimers will be placed in the chapters where they are required)

 _Summary_ : In response to the growing Metahuman issue, the Federal Bureau of Investigation has created their own Metahuman Division; the _Fringe Division_ , investigating the very fringes of the Teraverse.

Entry (0001): Case#0000 - Retasking

 _J. Edgar Hoover Building_

 _F.B.I. Headquarters_

 _Washington D.C._

"Look, Bones, I've got to go," Seeley Booth said to his partner (in more than just a couple of ways) over his cell phone. "No, it's not because of anything to do with any case, or with you, or anything like that. … The Director, he wants to see me about something. … I don't know yet, that's why I'm walking to his office right now. … As soon as I know something Bones, you'll be the first call I make. …Look, I gotta go, I'm at his door now. I'll talk to you later, Bones. I love you."

With that said, he hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and approached his boss's office, knocking softly on the open door.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" he said, noting that the Director was not alone.

"Come in Special Agent Booth," the Director ordered. "Close the door behind you. These are Assistant Director Phillip Broyles, Special Agents Olivia Dunham and Don Eppes, and Agents Astrid Farnsworth and Rebecca Harris. Everyone, Special Agent In Charge, Seeley Booth. Although that still remains to be seen, pending the results of this meeting."

"Sir?" Booth asked, taking the free seat at the table, suddenly nervous.

"We're short on time, and only three other people at this table know what is actually going on here, so I'll be blunt," the Director stated, still standing. "There is a division of the Federal Bureau of Investigations that is responsible for investigating, identifying, and dealing with situations, people, events, etc, that are deemed by the Bureau as being… unorthodox. That division is _not_ called the X-Files. But, minus alien involvement, the mandate is much the same as what the public would believe from watching that television show."

The Director let them all process that for about a minute before continuing. "It is known as the _Fringe_ Division, and until recently has been headed by AD Broyles. Rather than aliens and monsters, however, Fringe is meant to investigate, identify, and deal with the unnatural results that come from science run amok. In recent years, that has transformed from various black organizations utilizing advanced technology and the random science experiment gone wrong, to dealing directly with _metahumans_. With the public reveal of Homeland's Hazardous Waste Assessment Amelioration and Abatement, also known as the SRI, I felt that the Bureau needed to step up with its own answer to General Jonathan 'Jack' O'Neill's _Initiative_."

Feeling the need to interrupt, as he had a sinking feeling he knew where this was going, Booth raised his hand and spoke up. "Sir, with all due respect, I happen to know General O'Neill, Jack, personally. He's a good man, despite whatever rumors are being spread about him. He doesn't let power go to his head, and he doesn't play at politics."

"Jack O'Neill _is_ a good man," the Director agreed, nodding. "But he's only one man, and the SRI is only one organization, which came out of the Department of Defense, was drafted into Homeland Security, and is still made up of ninety percent soldiers from various Armed Forces, most of them Air Force or Army. They only managed to branch out into investigative areas within the past couple years. At best, they're rookies when it comes to investigation, at worse they're in way over their head and struggling to stay above board. In either case, the do not have the resources, nor the experience that we at the FBI do in analyzing and investigating. And _they_ get most of their intel from what all the other agencies _send_ to them, or what they can scrounge up with their own independent sources. I've got nothing against the SRI, Agents."

The Director finally sat down and looked at each of them in turn, resting on Booth at the end. "My problem is that I don't like having all our eggs in one flimsy, newly made basket. I'm re-tasking Fringe Division. Your mandate is now to deal with all Federal level incidents involving metahumans, or even the rumor of metahumans. Homeland has a lot of leeway with the Patriot Act and everything, but they can't cover everything. Fringe has the full backing of the F.B.I. and everything that comes with it. Not to mention a bit more leeway as Congress is still debating the fine print when it comes to laws on metahumans. So, if a metahuman is even peripherally involved, even as nothing more than a witness, Fringe has full jurisdiction, even if the rest of the FBI can't get involved. Provided, of course, that the new Assistant Director of Fringe accepts his new posting." All eyes turned to Booth.

His nervousness, or rather anxiety, had suddenly solidified into a cold rage that he was careful not to let into his expression, although he couldn't keep it entirely out of his eyes or tone when he spoke.

"Director, as I'm sure you're aware," said Booth, "the last time I was offered something like this… it didn't go so well. For anyone."

"Well, in that at least, you can take whatever small comfort in that you're not being _offered_ the position, Agent Booth," the Director replied. "You're being ordered to fulfill it. This isn't entirely a promotion, though you will be the Assistant Director, you'll be in the field as much as you always are. The title of Assistant Director of Fringe Division is entirely what you make of it, Booth."

"Sir, I…"

"Now hold on for one minute while I explain exactly what is going on here," the Director interrupted. Booth held his tongue.

"In the past ten years, you and your team at the Jeffersonian have done a phenomenal job. Your clearance rate is among the best, in the D.C. and surrounding areas at the least. Since teaming up with Dr. Brennan and her team you've stopped, what is it? Five? _Six_ different serial killers? And you've uncovered and stopped, as strange as it is to say out loud, at least _two active conspiracies_ from within the FBI, one of which was targeted directly at you. My point, Special Agent Booth, is that you have proven time and again that you are loyal to your country, to this Bureau, and to saving lives. Now, I need somebody to take the reigns of Fringe as they go from looking into 'mad science' to handling metas directly. Can you truly recommend _anyone_ else that could do as good a job at it as you?"

"There are a lot of good agents out there, Director," Booth started to say, but he was cut off.

"But none that have dealt with metahuman threats the way that you have," Broyles spoke up. He was a tall, bald black man with a deep voice and intense stare, but with Booth his reputation actually preceded him.

"I'm sorry, AD Broyles, but… what meta threats?" Booth asked. "I'm Major Crimes, we deal with serial killers and murderers and the like. We've never dealt with any metahuman, criminal or victim."

"According to the record," said Broyles, "that's not entirely true. Knowingly or not, you've actually dealt with two… I suppose the common term is, Super Villains; Christopher Pelant, who _was_ a Breslynn Orphan, but thankfully you dealt with him before he could join up with the Collective. The other was the killer in the case that you just concluded quite recently, confirmed cyborg; Rose… Tattoo. The self-proclaimed 'spirit of murder'."

"Yeah, but we still haven't caught her," Booth argued.

"It would've been a miracle if you had," Broyles told him straight up. "The only ones to have actually survived encounters with this… villain, have been other metas, notably Action Girl, the Creeper out of Chicago, and the SRI's Texas Ranger liaison, Francesca Santana. You tracked her down, trailed her to the Bethesda shipyard in Maryland, and while you did not capture her, you survived an encounter with her, which is just as telling."

Rubbing one particular scar, which was still healing beneath his suit, Booth nodded his head. "Yeah. Some of my guys weren't that lucky. If it hadn't been for Terawatt showing up like that…"

"That wasn't a coincidence," Olivia Dunham, sitting on Broyles right hand side, interrupted. Everyone was now staring at her, so after a moment to compose herself, she addressed Agent Booth. "I'm… not too clear on the precise chain of events, but… your team at the Jeffersonian, or somebody there, 'had a bad feeling' and one," she checked her notes, "Angela Montenegro-Hodgins, tapped into your comms. At the same time, on the advice of her husband, Dr. Jack Hodgins, she sent an anonymous e-mail to the SRI, who then contacted Terawatt and sent her to the area, thanks to Mrs. Hodgins' tap into your comms."

"I know that," Booth smiled understandingly at the younger agent.

"Who had the 'bad feeling'?" she insisted.

His face uncertain, as he kept glancing back and forth between Broyles and the Director. Finally, it became clear to him that they already knew the answer, and it wouldn't help him to keep it hidden, so he ultimately admitted, "It was… Angela's psychic."

"One," again the agent checked her records, "Avalon Harmonia. Born, Stephanie Susan James. Correct?"

"Yep-pah!" Booth popped his lips on the word, turning away from Agent Dunham.

"Ms. Avalon is a meta," Dunham said, bringing his attention back to her. "Confirmed psychic potential, in the form of comprehensive empathy, but not quite enough to be called full on telepathy. There is also Dr. Jack Hodgins, although we all hope that you already knew this…"

"I do," Booth cut her off. "I also put it in the man's file. I was also there when he and Angela and Bones came to me with the print-off of that damned e-mail that went out. He was never a part of the Collective."

"But Jack Hodgins _is_ an Orphan," the Director said this time.

"Yes sir, he is," Booth stated as plainly as he could. "But he is good at his job, and his dedication and loyalty…"

"Are not in question, nor a factor in these proceedings," the Director interrupted a final time. "The Jeffersonian and its Medico Labs are a separate institution from the Bureau. We have no control over who they employ or why the do or do not keep them employed. And I believe that I already said something to the effect that Fringe Division has full discretion when it comes to fulfilling their new mandate. Who you and your new division want to consult with, Director Booth, is entirely up to you."

"With all due respect sir," said Booth, "I haven't accepted the position."

"We all know you're doing it Booth," the Director stated. "You seem to be the only one here that doesn't know that. I need Broyles to work the political front to keep Fringe out of the fire. You'll be taking over his old job. Agent Dunham is, shockingly, Fringe's best agent, alongside Agent Farnsworth. Eppes is from the LA office, and has his own consultant he's bringing along with him into Fringe. And Agent Harris here is from the CJC in New York. Again, bringing with her a very… special consultant. When you say yes, and sign the paperwork, Booth, you're going to hit the ground running. Fringe already has a new case."

With that said, the Director turned on the large screen on the wall, showing a news report about a metahuman attack in western Pennsylvania, involving multiple homicides and thousands of dollars in property damage. Once the report concluded, the Director turned it off and continued.

"The SRI is currently overseas dealing with a multitude of issues in Europe, and their other teams are in Chicago and the Bay Area in California, respectively. They're stretched thin as it is, and taking out the meta involvement, this case would fall under FBI jurisdiction anyway. Hence re-tasking Fringe to being the FBI's new Meta-Division. I've spoken with O'Neill, and the President about this. To be quite frank about it, O'Neill was relieved to take some of the pressure off his people, and the President was never quite comfortable leaving everything having to do with metas to _only_ the SRI. As for chain of command, consider Fringe an entirely new branch of the Bureau, taking in and able to call upon each of the other branches as necessary. You answer to me, and the President. Broyles' job is to keep various Congressmen and Senators and Committees off your back. Your job is to do the same thing you were doing in Major Crimes, only now if it involves a meta in anyway, it is your jurisdiction. No exceptions."

"I… I can still use the Jeffersonian team?" he confirmed.

"And every other 'consultant' that you can get your hands on," the Director ordered. "If you can get heroes like Terawatt to agree to help you out, you have standing authorization to duly deputize them into the FBI and have them listed as consultants or deputies or both. Their true identities, if revealed to you, are at your discretion. Personally, so long as they're _helping_ and being heroes as opposed to villains, I don't care _who_ they are! But the fact is that the SRI has done more for this country in dealing with metas _because_ they use and have a number of metahumans on their side. Hell, at last count there were over a dozen Orphans still on their payroll, each and every one of them vetted. That says nothing of the other metas they have working with them."

"So… you want us… me… Fringe Division," Booth stammered, "to work with metahumans? Just to confirm, sir."

"Yes," the Director confirmed. "Agent Harris's consultant? When he takes a special drug, he becomes the smartest human being on the planet, without exception. He's currently the only living human being that can take this drug without risk of long term side-effects. Eppes' brother, a Professor by the name of Charles Eppes, is a highly skilled mathematician. He basically sees the world in terms of numbers, and is even able to _predict_ human behavior thanks to an algorithm he's developing. Agent Dunham?"

Grimacing, the blond woman nodded her head and held out her hand. The pitcher of water in the middle of the table slid all the way down to where Booth was sitting, before the water, without the pitcher moving further, flowed up and split off until everyone had a full glass of water beside them.

"When she was a child, Agent Dunham was exposed to another… unique drug," Broyles was the one to explain. "She and a group of children from this drug trial are on our watch list. A number of them have begun to… develop abilities now that they've reached adulthood, and not all of them can control their new abilities. That is what we were investigating primarily before the Director retasked us. The current consultant that we have on tap is actually the doctor that conducted the drug trial, a Walter Bishop."

"You're a metahuman?" Booth asked Dunham.

She shrugged and smiled. "That's what the media is calling those affected by these 'special' drugs, aren't they?"

Booth just stared at her for a little while, before settling back in his chair. He stared across the table at the Director before coming to a decision.

"I'm going to need about a day to inform my people and clear my workload with Major Crimes," he stated, still leaning back in the chair.

"Your workload has already been taken on by your replacement; Agent James Aubrey. As for your team, I can give you twelve hours, starting now. Then I need you on the job. For cases outside of the D.C. and local area, the jet is freely available to you and your team. With the exception of Broyles, Farnsworth and Harris, consider everyone in this room your department heads. Divide the workload as you see fit, but I would recommend, for this first case at least, that you get everybody together and work it as a single unit. Just to get used to how everybody works together. Now, if there is nothing else, the clock is running people. Get the job done."

The newly designated Fringe Division trudged out of the Director's office. Less than ten seconds after the door had shut behind them, it reopened to admit one of the few people that he truly trusted in this world.

"So," his friend asked, "how'd he take it?"

"About like you'd expect," the Director replied, taking off his glasses and beginning to diligently clean them with a handkerchief. "Think he'll do the job?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"OK, stupid question," he replied. "Think they can handle the job then?"

"Only one way to find out," former astronaut, and current Deputy Director of the FBI, Steve Austin said as he turned and walked out of the room, leaving his friend and FBI Director Oscar Goldman to consider the consequences of his decision. "Only one way to find out..."

END Entry


	2. Entry 0002 - Pizza Face

_Last Time..._

"...Now, if there is nothing else, the clock is running people. Get the job done."

The newly designated Fringe Division trudged out of the Director's office. Less than ten seconds after the door had shut behind them, it reopened to admit one of the few people that the Director truly trusted in this world.

"So," his friend asked, "how'd he take it?"

"About like you'd expect," the Director replied, taking off his glasses and beginning to diligently clean them with a handkerchief. "Think he'll do the job?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"OK, stupid question," he replied. "Think they can handle the job then?"

"Only one way to find out," former astronaut, and current Deputy Director of the FBI, Steve Austin said as he turned and walked out of the room, leaving his friend and FBI Director Oscar Goldman to consider the consequences of his decision. "Only one way to find out..."

Entry (0002): Case#0001 - Pizza-Face

 _J. Edgar Hoover Building_

 _F.B.I. Headquarters_

 _Washington D.C._

The talk—if one could even call it a 'talk'—with Bones and the Squints (not as cool a band name as it sounds), had not gone well. Facts remained, however, that Booth was now an Assistant Director, and the person in charge of the Fringe Division of the FBI. And if Bones and the rest wanted to keep working with him on cases, which he insisted was entirely their own choice, then they'd need to shift their focus a bit, from just solving unusual homicides, to dealing with metahuman issues.

Bones wasn't any happier than the rest, but Booth was quick to assure her that they wouldn't be moving anywhere and not much would really change from how it always had been. In fact, the only thing to change was the cases they'd be working, and the extra people they'd be working with.

With the Director's deadline now being past, Booth figured he'd take his boss's advice and hit the ground running, as it were. Unfortunately, the 'crime scene' of their new case had already been cleared, with the bodies already being shipped to the Jeffersonian, while the evidence was being squirreled away to another lab up in Harvard. Booth knew he'd have to do something about that, even if Dunham insisted their standing consultant did his best work in aforementioned lab. So, to get the ball rolling, he decided to get everybody together, and conference in this… Fringe consultant, just so they'd all be on the same page.

There were a lot more people in here than he'd been expecting, but thankfully this particular conference room was set up more like a lectern's amphitheater than just a single table with chairs. Come to think of it, he noticed, the table at the center _was_ a round circular table. Huh.

"OK," he stood up addressing the whole room. "Let's get started. We don't have a lot of time here. Farnsworth, the conference set up?"

As though in response, the big screen off to the side where everyone could see came to life and he saw a younger man, about Sweets' age and an older man in his sixties, both standing in a subterranean laboratory. "Great," he said before they could say a word. "I am Agent… Assistant Director Seeley Booth. I've been put in charge of the newly re-tasked Fringe Division. Those that have been with Fringe from the get go, I'll try and keep this simple and not step on any toes, but fact is I do things a bit differently than you're used to. This is our first case together, so it would help if we all knew everybody's names and what we all bring to the table. So to speak."

He looked at the occupants of the table, trying to figure out the best way to do this with the number of people present. Finally, he decided to stick with only letting the 'Leads' do the talking.

"Dunham, you've been with Fringe the longest, you go first. Introduce your people, then me, and we'll go from there," he ordered and then sat back down.

"All right," nodding, the blond also got to her feet, hands folding and unfolding in front of her, she spoke in a mostly flat tone, keeping her expression as neutral as possible at all times. "For those of you that do not know me, I am Special Agent Olivia Dunham. And for the record, I am a metahuman, with latent spatial psionic talents, which can range from a number of different abilities, but it boils down to the fact that I can, with concentration, affect the space around me. I received these abilities from a drug called _Cortexiphan_ , given to me when I was a child. The doctor that developed the drug is," she waved to the screen at the older man, "Walter Bishop. Who, in full disclosure, spent seventeen years in a mental institution after being charged with manslaughter when a lab assistant of his died in an accident. His son, Peter Bishop, and again, in full disclosure, is my fiance and Walter's legal guardian. Both are learned scientists and have helped us on a number of our past cases. Agent Astrid Farnsworth often assists Walter in the lab and is likewise gifted in science and investigation. We also have a number of TAC Teams on call. And until recently," she held out her hands with a shrug, "that's Fringe Division." She sat back down

Nodding in turn, Booth stayed seated, but turned and pointed at everybody as he mentioned them, "Doctor Temperance Brennan, I call her Bones, she's my wife and mother of two of my children. Doctor… y'know what, everybody that I point out, with one exception, is a doctor, so just go ahead and assume I said it. Camille Saroyan, Boss at the Jeffersonian. Lance Sweets, Psychologist at the Bureau. Jack Hodgins, I call him Bug Boy for obvious reasons. His wife Angela Montenegro-Hodgins, she's good with facial reconstructions and computers. Not present is our friend in the DA's office, Caroline Julian, and Sweets's fiancee Daisy Wick. Eppes, you and your consultant?"

"Right, I'm Special Agent Don Eppes, used to run the LA Field Office as the Senior Field Agent. I figured this was something like a promotion, being in DC, but when I found out what it was for, I called up my brother Charlie." Said brother waved to everyone else in the room. All that could be said, Booth was just glad the unkempt, wild-haired man in his low 20s was at least wearing a suit. "He's a Professor out of CalSci, also known as the California Institute of Science, and for over five years, he's helped me and the Bureau in solving all manner of cases. When I explained what this was all about, I couldn't stop him from getting involved, or bringing his wife, also a Professor and a genius, Amita Ramanujan-Eppes. As good as Charlie here is with raw numbers, Amita is just as good with computers and other digital technology."

"Our turn next!" the extremely unkempt 'normal' person, and one of the only men _not_ wearing a suit, exuberantly tapped his FBI handler on the shoulder, who looked like she wished the earth would swallow her at that moment.

Getting past it, the young woman with straight brown hair, held back in a tight ponytail, spoke up. "I am Rebecca Harris, originally posted to the Cross Jurisdictional Command, or CJC, based out of upper Manhattan. A few years back, a drug known only by its designation NZT-48, came to the attention of the CJC and a few other organizations. Basically, the myth about humans only using ten percent of their brain?"

"That is indeed a myth," said Brennan, speaking out of turn. "The human brain can and does operate at full capacity at all times, it is merely…"

"Bones," Booth grabbed his wife by the arm to quiet her down. "Not now. And also, I'm pretty sure that every single person in this room agrees with you and already knows it to be a myth."

"Well, so long as we all acknowledge the point," the forensic anthropologist said without shame or embarrassment.

"NZT allows a human to take full possession of the _mind's_ abilities. While on NZT, you can remember every fact, thought, and imagining that you ever had throughout your entire life. One can also enable the brain's control over the body, able to turn off pain, increase healing, and think as fast as the neurons in your brain can fire, without distracting thoughts getting in the way." She trailed off, as she realized everyone was paying a bit too close of attention to her. "Unfortunately," she changed tracks pretty quickly, "there are side-effects. Too much NZT, and well, we've all heard the term 'burn out'? Imagine that happening to your entire nervous system at once. Brian Finch," she gestured to the unkempt boy-man behind her, "is the only human alive that is fully immune to the side-effects of NZT. Other than that, he is a completely ordinary, if artistically-minded, individual. On NZT, however, he is the smartest person alive."

"I would dispute that fact," Brennan spoke up once more.

"With all due respect, Dr. Brennan," Harris said, "and I've read your file, so please believe me when I say that I truly do respect you and your mind, but you have yet to meet Brian on NZT. Or anybody else on that drug. If you had, you would know just how much you _cannot_ dispute that fact."

"I look forward to testing your hypothesis," the woman settled back in her seat.

"OK, before this turns into the epic nerd debate of the squints," Booth interrupted with a clap of his hands, "Let's get to work. Dunham, what've we got?"

Nodding, the blond agent took hold of the remote and the screen shifted so those on the teleconference were a smaller sub-screen while additional information appeared. As she spoke, more information and corresponding images came up or shifted.

"Two days ago, in a town in western Pennsylvania, there were reports of some kind of metahuman event. Information was sketchy, and all we had to go on were vague news reports, and even they didn't have much to go on. Then, yesterday morning, this aired and was quickly picked up by the National media." They all watched the local news report, and paid close attention to the footage captured by a clearly terrified cameraman. Dunham stopped the playback when it came upon the clearest possible image of the actual metahuman.

"That is one ugly piece of pizza pie," Brian commented in the silence of the room. Rebecca sighed.

"I would surmise that it is actually a deformation rather than a mutation, Mr. Finch," Brennan commented, sounding distracted as her thoughts began racing. "The bone structure is still largely intact and perhaps even augmented, while the musculature has been exposed either through burns or eschar removal."

"What could cause something like this?" Eppes asked, feeling very out of his depth all of a sudden. Using math to find criminals was one thing. Metahumans was a whole other ballpark.

"There have been many examples of biochemical transformation in recent years," Brennan said. "The individual dubbed by media as the Tromaville Monster, or the Toxic Avenger, for example. He has immense strength, some kind of unidentifiable sensory input that permits him to be aware of a person's guilt or innocence, and yet his body has been deformed into a rather hideous exterior. A similar process may have resulted in this… individual."

"Or he might not be from this dimension," Walter spoke up from the teleconference window.

"Walter," Peter said in a tone that said everything.

"Well it is a possibility, Peter," Walter argued.

"All right," Booth said, feeling like he was trying to herd cats all of a sudden. "Appearances aside, does anybody have an explanation for how… everything else that thing was doing is even possible? Or what it was, besides messy?"

"Need to analyze the evidence," nearly half the room, and both on the teleconference said at once.

"How soon can we get everything to the Jeffersonian?" Brennan asked.

"The Jeffersonian?" Walter interrupted before Booth could say anything. "Why would you send it there? It's all coming to my lab, of course."

"No, it should come to the Jeffersonian, where we can examine it properly," she said.

"But you won't have any idea what you're looking for!" the older man was getting rather agitated. "And you'll need specialized equipment in order to properly identify… Peter!"

"Olivia, I'll calm Walter down, you explain," the younger man said before cutting the call.

"Booth, everything goes to the Jeffersonian, you know this," Brennan said before any explanations or arguments could be issued.

"Isn't Harvard closer to where the incident occurred?" Brian asked.

"In terms of efficiency, and to save time, moving the physical evidence to the Harvard lab would make more sense," Charlie remarked. "All that you'd really need, Dr. Brennan, would be the body, correct? I mean, that is _your_ specialty, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, it is," the anthropologist reluctantly acknowledged.

"Then there you go," the young mathematician said with a brimming smile. "Oh, and Don, Amita and I will need to be on site to get accurate measurements and raw data. Once we have that, we can plug it all into a new algorithm I'm developing to help in cataloging meta-abilities. We should have the results ready in about a day or so?" He glanced over at his wife, who nodded along, enthusiastic.

"Yeah, maybe we should head back to New York, or something?" Brian asked Rebecca. "I'm suddenly craving a slice for some reason."

"Funny Brian," she deadpanned. "We're going to Harvard, where you'll help the Bishops in going over the evidence. I'll have your pill ready for you when we get there."

"Booth?" Brennan whined, although she would deny that adamantly.

"Bones, they're right," he told his wife. "This is a whole new situation for everybody, and maybe in the future everything will go to your lab, but on this case, I'm trying to get us all working together. Which means the physical evidence, and those that analyze it, are going to Bishop's lab, while the body goes to the Jeffersonian."

"Bodies," Dunham corrected her new boss.

"What?" he asked.

"We're getting his victims as well as the meta himself," she replied. "Seven bodies in total. There are also some indications that this wasn't so much a case of a meta going berserk on a busy street, but the meta equivalent of a terrorist car bomb being set off. Astrid… Agent Farnsworth thinks that this might have been a dry run at something new, and somebody wanted to see what their creation could do."

Booth's jaw clenched. Then he got an e-mail alert from his phone.

Mostly so he could use the distraction to help himself calm down, he pulled out his phone and checked it. When he turned back around, it was clear that he hadn't calmed down at all. "Let's talk as we walk," he ordered as he lead the way out of the conference room, everyone trailing behind him like ducklings.

"You know what," he said after a tense silence, and a couple hallways down from the room. "I changed my mind. Bones, everyone, grab what you need from the Jeffersonian, we're _all_ going to the Harvard lab. Dunham," by this point everyone was standing and gathering outside of the offices Fringe personnel would be using, "you're going to brief me and Eppes on exactly what tactical support we have available, and how quickly they can deploy. The moment the squints have anything, I want us ready to roll out, whether the threat is in Philly, New York, Boston, DC, or even Miami or Seattle. _IF_ this is somebody testing out a new meta-making-drug, we are going to nip it in the bud, sooner rather than later. Bones, don't look at me like that. Get back to your lab, grab everything that you, Bug-boy, Angela, and Cam will need. And no, you cannot bring a _squintern_. They're no longer cleared for this kind of work."

"But Booth, I…" she started to protest, chasing after him.

"Don't worry, we'll find you somebody," Booth called back to her.

"Is now a bad time?" a throaty feminine voice interrupted, freezing them in their tracks.

Turning toward the source, they all observed a tall, svelte woman of apparent Greek origin, dressed in a slim charcoal grey pantsuit with a red blouse standing there, holding a thick file folder and a valise with both hands. Briefly juggling her load, she managed to free her right hand as she stepped forward, offering it to Booth.

"Hi," she greeted. "Jane Rizzoli, Detec—" cutting herself off with a wince, she quickly recovered, "Sorry. FBI Instructor out of Quantico. I got an e-mail telling me to come here," she gestured to Booth's new office, although the only thing identifying it as such was the number by the door and the words 'Assistant Director' stenciled on the actual door itself, which had been left open. "Not really much of an explanation besides that it was some kind of transfer?"

Booth looked at Dunham, who could only shrug back at him. Sighing, he shook his head.

"Right, OK, Rizzoli, you're with Dunham and Eppes while I figure out what else is getting dropped in my lap today," he grumbled. "Dunham, until I'm up to speed, consider yourself my new gopher. Eppes, fill Rizzoli in on everything. Bones, what are you still doing here? Go and get your stuff. We're on our way as soon as I finish making these phone calls. So… two hours, tops."

"But what about Christine? My dad is out of town this week, and he can't watch her," she argued. "And we're bringing all the rest of our babysitters with us."

"Daisy and I could watch her? And Hank too, of course," Sweets offered, coming around the corner at just the right moment.

"See, all coming together!" Booth clapped his hands and then started making 'shoo' motions. "Now everybody out of my office. We've got work to do!"

"Am I seriously being transferred here?" Rizzoli asked Eppes and Dunham both as they all scattered, Brennan dragging Sweets alongside to lecture him about taking care of her children.

The moment his doorway was clear, Booth pulled out his cell phone, the landline still set to Broyles' preferences, not to mention they'd be getting new office equipment moved in over the next few days anyway. Angrily punching up his Contacts, Booth did everything he could think of to calm down so his anger wouldn't come through in his tone of voice when speaking.

"Director? It's Agent Booth," he began, then winced when he was reprimanded over the phone. "Sorry sir, I mean Assistant Director Booth. Sir, how many more people are you going to be 'transferring' to my division? Because I've got a Jane Rizzoli here that…"

"..."

"... Really?" Booth gulped. "Well, thanks for the heads up, sir. I will take that under advisement. Thank you for your time, sir."

Once he hung up, Booth proceeded to slam his head against the solid wood of his closed door, repeatedly, hoping to forestall the migraine he felt coming on by giving himself head trauma beforehand. It was going to be a long day.

END Entry


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